


hushlight

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [32]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, M/M, Phantom Thief AU, a sprinkling of magic realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11720823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: Kita Shinsuke falls asleep with his voice nestled in the heart of his palm, and it’s taken Suga three nights of careful prying to get it out.Kita on the roof with a priceless artefact.





	hushlight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 5: Clue | [originally posted here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24808.html?thread=15318504#cmt15318504)

A voice is a funny thing.

Some people’s voices look nothing like them. Some people’s voices are butterflies, and they are hard to catch. Some people’s voices are hidden among teacups and photographs, some in music boxes that sing, softly, only when the right person opens them. To tell the truth, Suga has very little use for a voice; he has a perfectly good one of his own, and so it is enough for him to watch and listen, to get to know the oddities of others’ voices as he slips quietly in and out of their rooms.

But this one’s different. Kita Shinsuke falls asleep with his voice nestled in the heart of his palm, and it’s taken Suga three nights of careful prying to get it out.

It began as a challenge, more than anything. He wondered at first if it might be under his pillow, but then he saw the clenched fist curled close to his chest; and Suga knelt down by his bedside, held that elegant hush like glass between his hands as he reached over, took Kita’s palm in his and began to ease that grip open.

It’s delicate work, what he does. That’s why it has to be him. There’s a smile on his face, a soothing murmur on his breath as he thinks, _how warm, how surprisingly warm_ ; he had thought Kita was made of ice-water and a flurry of snow, but he can feel his pulse beneath his fingertips and it is no wintry flutter. It is a smouldering, a wind rising.

That wind stirs again now as Suga stops in his tracks, on the rooftop. He’s on the edge, looking down at the sprawl of the city, the lights that wait to welcome him back to the streets’ embrace. Kita hasn’t called out to him. He _can’t_ , of course. Still—

The sound of his footstep is a command, and Suga cannot help but turn around.

Kita has not bothered to get dressed. He’s still in his robe, made of home-spun silk and cotton, and his feet are bare. As he crosses the roof to close the distance between them, Suga flashes him a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “Good to see you, Shinsuke.”

Kita stops an arm’s length away and crosses his arms. The tilt in his chin speaks volumes, as does the slight quirk on the corner of his lips, a curve that’s not quite amused, not quite angry.

He nods at Suga. His gaze flicks down to the pouch at Suga’s hip, and for a moment, Suga wonders if he will step forward and make a grab for it. He could do that. He has the reflexes for it. Suga feels his own heartbeat speed up, feels himself tensing for a quick getaway.

The night is _his_. That’s what he’d always thought. Breezy, starlit kisses, the moonlight his red carpet soft beneath his tread, but as they stand face to face, he can see that carpet spreading out under Kita’s feet as well. It is a darkening glow for him, a subtle whisper that does all the talking he needs.

And it’s not Kita Shinsuke’s style, to do anything as crass as _making a grab for it_. Suga thinks, rueful: he should have known better.

Kita Shinsuke’s style is to watch him with that almost-smile, the silence drawn out so long that it’s Suga who starts to shift from one foot to another, swallow his awkwardness. He could end it, if he only returned that gold-tipped molten voice, but he, too, is stubborn, and he can dig his heels in.

(It’s not like he really needs this voice more than any other, but it’s been stuck in his head, and Suga’s never been one to let his curiosity sit still for long. It will be his undoing one day, he’s been told.

_One night,_ maybe, now)

Kita Shinsuke’s style is to reach out, touch him on the wrist and gesture to the door, like he is inviting Suga in for a cup of tea. There is no haste in his movement. They have all the time in the world before the sun rises.

And Kita Shinsuke’s style, Suga learns, is not to take no for an answer, even without words.


End file.
